‘Absolutely, Sarge. I’ll get right on it.’
‘If Albert Johnson won’t tell us what happened, we need to put the pieces of this puzzle together ourselves.’
Karen pressed her fingers against her temples. This case was already giving her a headache. If they weren’t able to get the answers they needed from Albert Johnson, they’d need to dig deep to find the link between the body in the suitcase and the note they’d found in the old man’s kitchen.
The body was old, but the note was not. They needed to find out who’d sent that ominous message to Albert as soon as possible.
CHAPTER FOUR
DI Morgan dropped Karen off at Lincoln County Hospital, so she could check on Albert Johnson’s condition while he headed back to Nettleham to brief the team and talk to Superintendent Michelle Murray.
Karen entered into the hospital through the main entrance. It was busy and confusing. She’d been there only a few months ago, working on another case, but she was sure they’d changed things around. She put her hands in her pockets and waited for her turn by the reception desk.
She gave her name and held up her warrant card, and asked where she could find Albert Johnson. The woman behind the counter gave Karen directions to the intensive care unit. It didn’t take her long to find it.
At the entrance to the ward, she followed the instructions, using a squirt of the alcohol hand sanitiser and pressing the green button.
The staff nurse who came to the door smiled. ‘Can I help?’
Karen showed her warrant card again. ‘My name is DS Hart. I’d like to talk to the person in charge of treatment for Albert Johnson. He was brought in this morning.’
The nurse pointed to the row of chairs behind Karen. ‘If you’d like to take a seat in the waiting area, I’ll try to find the doctor for you.’
‘Thank you.’
There were a few magazines on the low table beside the plastic chairs, but Karen ignored them. She’d read an article recently detailing how bacteria and viruses could linger on the pages of magazines in doctors’ waiting rooms, and she imagined the same was true of a hospital.
The walls were covered with posters, displaying slogans such as ‘Caring isn’t sharing’ alongside pictures of various horrible bugs.
She had to wait for about ten minutes before a harassed-looking man in a white coat walked into the waiting area. He was short with dark-brown hair and bushy eyebrows, which knitted together in a frown as he approached Karen. He stuck out his hand. ‘I’m Dr Clark. Are you DS Hart?’
Karen shook his hand. ‘Yes. Are you the doctor treating Albert Johnson?’
‘I am. But I can tell you now he’s not going to be talking to anyone for a while. He’s been in and out of consciousness since he arrived. He suffered a nasty blow to the head from his fall and had a heart attack in the ambulance.’
‘Do you think he’ll recover?’
‘Difficult to say at his age. I suppose you want to talk to him to find out who did this. We had an old lady in last week. Two men had broken into her house and roughed her up.’ Dr Clark glared at Karen as though she were personally responsible.
‘We don’t know if anyone else was involved in Albert Johnson’s fall.’
The doctor’s frown deepened. ‘Then why do you want to talk to him?’
‘It’s important to the case I’m working on. He has vital information.’
Dr Clark huffed. ‘Well, give him a few days to recover, at least. He’s not up to questioning yet.’
She’d experienced some hostility from doctors and nurses in the past. Only because they were very protective of their patients, which was a good thing. People were vulnerable in hospital and often needed someone on their side, looking out for their interests, and in this case, the doctor had no idea what they’d found in Albert’s house.
‘Do you know if Albert has communicated with anyone since he’s been admitted?’
‘I wouldn’t know. He hasn’t said anything in my presence; you’d have to speak to the nurses. I’ll ask them to come out and talk to you.’
‘Thank you,’ Karen said, and sat back down to wait.
It was another ten minutes before someone came out. It was the same staff nurse who’d opened the door to Karen earlier, but now she wasn’t smiling. Her pretty features were contorted into a scowl.
Karen smiled and stood up, hoping to get the nurse on side. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, I know you’re busy. I just wondered whether Albert Johnson has spoken to anyone since he’s been here. Has he said anything to you?’
‘What kind of thing?’
‘Anything at all. I’d be interested in anything you heard him say.’
‘Sorry, I can’t help you. He was muttering a few things here and there.’ The nurse paused. ‘He was in a panic when he first came in, screaming for help and shouting at the team treating him. Since then he’s been sedated and hasn’t said a word.’
‘Right. Thanks for your help.’
She turned to leave, and the nurse said, ‘You know, it’s not very nice, what you’re doing.’
Karen turned back. ‘What I’m doing?’
‘He’s an old man. He’s going to need time to recuperate. Surely your questions could wait until he’s recovered.’
Karen took a deep breath. ‘I’m afraid it can’t wait. We’re going to need to talk to Albert as soon as he wakes up.’
The nurse crossed her arms over her chest and shook her head.
She saw Karen as the bad guy in this situation. Of course she had no idea the sweet old man she was caring for had kept a dead body in his house for decades.
By the time DI Morgan got back to Nettleham headquarters, it was almost one p.m. He briefed Sophie and Rick, making sure they understood the tasks assigned to them. They updated him on how they were progressing in digging into Albert Johnson’s background.
Satisfied with how they were getting on, he left Rick on the phone to the council and Sophie trawling through various pictures of suitcases in an online database, and headed upstairs to update Superintendent Murray.
‘I don’t want this getting out to the press,’ she said before DI Morgan had even sat down.
‘Absolutely, ma’am. We’ll keep it as quiet as possible.’
‘So where are we with this investigation?’
‘The body is old. Raj thinks our victim has been dead at least twenty years.’
‘So we’re dealing with a cold case?’
‘Sort of. The body was found in an upstairs bedroom, in a suitcase. But we suspect it was recently moved, probably by Albert Johnson, the exertion then causing him to fall and injure himself. A printed note was found in the kitchen with the words It’s time to pay for your crime. The concerning element is the fact the note looks new. At least, it didn’t look decades old to me.’
The superintendent held the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. ‘I’m not liking the sound of this.’
‘It’s an unusual one,’ DI Morgan said. ‘Right now, we don’t have much to work with.’
‘Was Albert Johnson married?’
DI Morgan nodded. ‘That was our first thought, too. We wondered if it was the spouse or a family member and he’d managed to keep it covered up all this time, but his wife died ten years ago, so it’s unlikely to be her body. Plus, there was a death certificate issued, and all the details seem to be in order. She was cremated. They have no children, so we need to expand our scope of potential victims.’